BooBoo, Sugar Pie, PeeWee, and Homeless. "Don't he look just like a little fat pumpkin?" And that's what he'd be called thereafter. Little girls' names were at least softer to the ear: Peaches, Babysister, Candy, Bo-Peep, and Cookie. There was a set of twins called Heckle and Jeckle.
Money kept his hand out when he saw Mildred take the plates back in the kitchen.
"Here, I've got a quarter, for all of you," Sonny said, reaching into his pockets. Their attitudes seemed to change then, but when Freda refused hers, the girls pulled their hands back too. Not Money. He slid his quarter into his pocket and told Sonny he could give all of the coins to him and he'd see to it that his sisters got theirs later on when he knew they'd change their minds. The girls looked at him like he was a traitor, but it didn't bother Money.
Sonny kept coming for a few months and Mildred was glowing, always humming some song. Then he found out he was getting sent to Okinawa. He told Mildred it was a strong possibility that he might not see her for at least a year. And if he was ordered to fight in Vietnam, he might not ever see her again. Before he'd met her, he'd asked to be transferred to Texas, which is where he'd be stationed if he made it back to the States. Mildred didn't whine or cry. She just thanked Sonny for the best four months she'd had since her divorce, especially since he'd gotten her juices back in circulation. It wasn't like she was madly in love with him. Hell, Mildred said to herself, wasn't no use crying over spilt milk.
Percy hadn't exactly given up on her, even though he'd married a shy woman who knew a good thing when she saw one. Percy was the kind of man who would try to enter a jalopy in a stock car race and wouldn't be able to figure out why he didn't qualify, and if by chance they did let him in, he'd be at a total loss as to why he didn't win. The only thing he was good at figuring out was his long-overdue and stored-up passion for Mildred. Dreaming about her was enough for Percy. His wife suspected it, though she never said anything to him so long as he paid the bills.
Percy had told Mildred time and time again that if she ever needed anything, anything at all, to drop her pride and call him first. She decided to keep him on the back burner in case of a real emergency. After all, he was married, and she didn't want his wife knocking on her door in the middle of the night ready to blow her brains out. So Mildred left Percy just where he was: on simmer. Besides, he was too nice, she thought, and not once had Mildred ever seen him lose his temper. She wondered if he had one.
Mildred applied for another job. This time at Prest-o-Lite, though they weren't hiring. Those welfare checks were barely making the house note, let alone everything else. She wanted to work, not sit around the house all day trying to drum up things to keep her busy. She was getting fidgety and the least little thing that didn't go right got on her nerves. She was sick of standing and waiting in line for the flour and cheese and margarine and Spam they gave her at the welfare office.
She sat at the kitchen table and started going through a stack of envelopes that she had already shuffled and reshuffled in order of importance over the past few weeks. It didn't make a difference. Most of them were going to have to go unpaid. Bills. The coal bill. The gas bill. The light bill. The water bill. The garbage man. The insurance man. The washer and dryer bill. The house note. Groceries. Lunch money. Special field trip money. Gym suit money. School books. Notebook paper. Tennis shoes. Sunday shoes. The dentist. Popsicles.
Everything was piling up and it was as if Mildred were caught in a snow storm and was constantly shoveling the sidewalk. It kept snowing over where she had just shoveled. In spite of the welfare checks and the occasional day work she managed to get on the side, Mildred was getting deeper and deeper in debt. Everything kept getting more
Money kept his hand out when he saw Mildred take the plates back in the kitchen.
"Here, I've got a quarter, for all of you," Sonny said, reaching into his pockets. Their attitudes seemed to change then, but when Freda refused hers, the girls pulled their hands back too. Not Money. He slid his quarter into his pocket and told Sonny he could give all of the coins to him and he'd see to it that his sisters got theirs later on when he knew they'd change their minds. The girls looked at him like he was a traitor, but it didn't bother Money.
Sonny kept coming for a few months and Mildred was glowing, always humming some song. Then he found out he was getting sent to Okinawa. He told Mildred it was a strong possibility that he might not see her for at least a year. And if he was ordered to fight in Vietnam, he might not ever see her again. Before he'd met her, he'd asked to be transferred to Texas, which is where he'd be stationed if he made it back to the States. Mildred didn't whine or cry. She just thanked Sonny for the best four months she'd had since her divorce, especially since he'd gotten her juices back in circulation. It wasn't like she was madly in love with him. Hell, Mildred said to herself, wasn't no use crying over spilt milk.
Percy hadn't exactly given up on her, even though he'd married a shy woman who knew a good thing when she saw one. Percy was the kind of man who would try to enter a jalopy in a stock car race and wouldn't be able to figure out why he didn't qualify, and if by chance they did let him in, he'd be at a total loss as to why he didn't win. The only thing he was good at figuring out was his long-overdue and stored-up passion for Mildred. Dreaming about her was enough for Percy. His wife suspected it, though she never said anything to him so long as he paid the bills.
Percy had told Mildred time and time again that if she ever needed anything, anything at all, to drop her pride and call him first. She decided to keep him on the back burner in case of a real emergency. After all, he was married, and she didn't want his wife knocking on her door in the middle of the night ready to blow her brains out. So Mildred left Percy just where he was: on simmer. Besides, he was too nice, she thought, and not once had Mildred ever seen him lose his temper. She wondered if he had one.
Mildred applied for another job. This time at Prest-o-Lite, though they weren't hiring. Those welfare checks were barely making the house note, let alone everything else. She wanted to work, not sit around the house all day trying to drum up things to keep her busy. She was getting fidgety and the least little thing that didn't go right got on her nerves. She was sick of standing and waiting in line for the flour and cheese and margarine and Spam they gave her at the welfare office.
She sat at the kitchen table and started going through a stack of envelopes that she had already shuffled and reshuffled in order of importance over the past few weeks. It didn't make a difference. Most of them were going to have to go unpaid. Bills. The coal bill. The gas bill. The light bill. The water bill. The garbage man. The insurance man. The washer and dryer bill. The house note. Groceries. Lunch money. Special field trip money. Gym suit money. School books. Notebook paper. Tennis shoes. Sunday shoes. The dentist. Popsicles.
Everything was piling up and it was as if Mildred were caught in a snow storm and was constantly shoveling the sidewalk. It kept snowing over where she had just shoveled. In spite of the welfare checks and the occasional day work she managed to get on the side, Mildred was getting deeper and deeper in debt. Everything kept getting more
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